


Gentle Moments

by Kalyppso



Series: Golden Discretion [4]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, My Unit is not Byleth, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2020-10-25 02:57:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalyppso/pseuds/Kalyppso
Summary: Part IV of my Golden Discretion series will feature the ot4 in various little fluffy snippets.





	1. Nightmare (Fae x Claude)

**Author's Note:**

> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.

It was only Claude's seventh night sleeping with Fae, and while there was a deep and undeniable comfort to be found in sharing a bed with the absolute love of his life, he had trouble not startling when the mattress would shift and squeak under their movements. So when Fae yelped in their sleep, the noise of their cry greatly overshadowing any of the little disturbances that had woke him previously, Claude found himself jolted awake in a panic.

"Nah! Huhn. Never working ..."

He pursed his lips when he realized they were just dreaming. His heart strained to see their brow knit together in ... fear? Anger? He was uncertain, only sure from their babbling and way their shoulder jittered that it was an unpleasant dream.

He reached out and let his hand hover over their shoulder, wondering if it would be worse to wake them or let them sleep. They looked a far cry from the warrior sovereign the legends would have one believe, their scarred naked body twitching in fear from a terror of the night. It seemed like something he should offer protection from, but perhaps Fae would only rouse confused, annoyed or embarrassed, and so Claude settled at their side, waiting for this to pass.

Yet suddenly among the hissed nonsense and fluctuating mutterings, Claude's ears pricked to the sound of his name falling from Fae's lips. At first he wondered if it was imagined, his mind looking for something familiar in the whispers at his side, but then they called him again, as if in fear, and a third time, and that was too much. Worse than any fear of disturbing Fae's rest, he couldn't abandon them, even to an imagined threat.

He gently touched their forearm, wondering how often such dreams had come, how many nightmares involving him Fae had faced, when he hadn't been here, when another might've heard them call his name.

"Hah! Huh?"

Fae woke, flinching and jerking away from his touch. Breathing hard and raising their head to look up at him, their long mint hair pooled around them like a shroud, hiding their body and half their face from Claude's patient expression.

"Hey, hey, hey, you're okay," he cooed. "Look at me," he encouraged, curling their hair back and seeing that they were looking behind or beyond him. "Look at me. You were just having a nightmare."

Fae's large glassy eyes blinked as they wiped some drool from their mouth, still looking horrified, but whether from the dream or their predicament, Claude couldn't tell.

"I ..."

"Shh, shh, shh," he hushed when it became obvious that Fae wasn't going to continue. "You're okay." He leaned back into the bed to meet them, tucking his arm around the small of their back. "We're okay."

Though perhaps he should've expected it, Claude's eyes blew wide when Fae curled up into his embrace, sobbing.

After a moment's hesitation, he tightened his grip around his little spouse, continuing his assurances, rubbing circles on their back.

"Claude," Fae whimpered through their tears, his name sounding completely different to when they were dreaming.

He clutched the back of their head, keeping them close to his chest. "I'm right here."

"Claude," Fae cried. "You have to wake me. Please wake me every morning."

He grunted, recognizing their dilemma, loosening his hold on Fae in case they wanted to look at him while he tried to assure them as casually as he could, "I can do that."

Fae frantically wiped at their face, holding fast to their cheeks, hot from tears and embarrassment, especially as Claude pulled at the sheets to wipe at his chest. They let their breathing slow as they met his eye, and felt their throat tighten as they admit, "I ... I'm so afraid that any time I close my eyes - to sleep, to blink - that I'll open them to another five years lost."

Claude hesitated, at a loss. He offered Fae his hand. "We won't let that happen."

"You can't know that," Fae insisted, sitting up, holding a pillow to their chest. "We don't even know why it did."

Claude crowded around them, willing himself to be a stabilizing comfort. "I won't let that happen. There's no reason I can't be here to wake you, why I can't ensure there's always someone here to wake you. We don't have enemies like we used to. You're safe."

"I just ... my fears are so irrational -"

"They're not."

"- And my life has been so irrational."

"I know."

"Could I end up once again fallen in a chasm of the earth while time slipped by around me?"

"Fae."

"Could I end up teleported to another reality? Out of reach, out of touch, with no goddess or demon to protect me?"

"Fae," Claude said more forcefully. "Whatever was on your mind a moment ago, it was just a dream. We are still here, together."

Fae sobbed again, nodding, holding the pillow so tightly that their hands were white, and Claude loosened his embrace, to rub their back in gentle calming circles, moving their hair aside to scratch their shoulders, as he tried to distract them with repetitive motion, with his presence.

It took some time, but eventually Fae felt the cold pit in their stomach start to recede, more and more. At one point they did twitch and sputter into another bout of tears, worried about the time they were wasting with Claude, when there was no active reason to be sad or worried, but he was patient through that too, kissing the side of their head and remaining present. Yet now as they found themselves centered, his arm falling around their waist, they felt better for it.

Embarrassed, more by the state of them than their actions anymore, Fae peeked up over the pillow that they'd been hiding in to hazard a glance at their husband. He smiled weakly and used his far hand to start moving their hair about to frame their face.

"Thank you," Fae whispered, soft and nervous.

"Fae," Claude answered, his voice sad. His hand still cupped around their cheek, he leaned forward to kiss their forehead. "Of course. I'm sorry I can't do much more."

"No, this was perfect. I just ... needed a moment."

They shared a kiss then, as there was not much else Claude could do but take Fae at their word.

"I'll be here when you wake up, okay?" he insisted.

"Okay," Fae agreed, nodding. Claude moved so they could reorient themselves, facing away from him so that he could curl up around them. He would need to move, when he wanted to sleep, but for now he just wanted to be a warm and heavy assurance while Fae fell back asleep.


	2. Coming Home (Lorenz x Hilda)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.

The sun was setting, but the estate of House Gloucester was in sight, and so Lorenz and his entourage were going to push through to arrive home sometime in the witching hour. Were it a warmer month, they might camp and finish their journey with the sun rise, but as the white landscape glittered in a rose colored hue, they knew a deep chill was going to be cutting through them within the hour.

The group stopped to feed their horses, shielded by some crags as the wind started to pick up, forgoing a meal and fire, hoping to hurry along once they'd secured the base comforts of their mounts.

Lorenz shifted, his armor heavy, uncomfortable and cold as the horizon burned from red to blue, the sky overhead shifting and churning into a black and white mixture as threatening clouds circled a winking moon. Calling out assurances to the group, he tightened his scarf, wondering if those who had traveled the length of his journey with him also missed the Almyran sun.

When the notable group arrived at the gates, a messenger ran to alert the lady of the house, but based on the hour, Lorenz was sure he would still find his wife half asleep, lounging in bed by the time he made his way to her. First, he would find somewhere to vest himself of armor and outer layers, shucking the snow from his trousers and changing into dry footwear.

Finally stepping inside the main house, Lorenz allowed himself a deep sigh, for as unwelcoming as the climate was being, it was good to be home. Familiar smells and sights warming his heart, much as the thick walls warmed his chilled and weary body.

Lorenz went first to his children's rooms.

Holding his breath, he turned the handle for Lorencia's nursery. He carried no candle, and so littered no light on the far bed where the nanny slept, nor into the crib located at the center of the room. Careful to be sure that there were no obstacles in his path, he tiptoed over to peek at his youngest. His eyes long since adjusted to the darkness of the upper floors of the home, he let himself be assured that she hadn't changed all that much since his time away, her short hair hardly grown, her little round body the same shape, her breathing healthy and familiar. He thought to reach out, but resisted, as waking her would be its own regret. His little angel would have to wait until daylight to be spoiled by his return.

Closing the door was an act of stealth that Lorenz had been surprised to succeed in, and that gave him pause as he approached Halvard's room, but he'd already more or less committed to this course of action and so, carefully, he let the knob click open.

Lorenz let himself wince when the door stuck on clothing on the floor. At the late hour, he was beyond caring about a mess, but he knew that when he opened his eyes again, that Halvard was going to be blinking open those mischievous pink eyes.

"Daddy?"

The whisper in the room was like an arrow in his chest. Had he ever called to his own father with such familiarity? Of course there had been affection, but ... this was so deeply different.

Halvard's room faced the front of the estate. Moonlight shone in through the window, casting them both as blue silhouettes in the darkness.

"Yes, sweetling," Lorenz answered softly as he stepped into the room, "it's me."

"Dad!" Halvard called, wrestling himself from his sheets, still more or less at a whisper, for which Lorenz was immensely grateful. Though his boy's feet were less quiet, a stumbling patter upon the floor.

He stroked across the top of Halvard's head as his son hugged him about the knees, eventually dipping down to scoop him up. The boy was heavy, and Lorenz felt he could tell even now that Halvard was going to be at least as tall as he was.

"Hello," he greeted, tapping the end of his nose. "I'm sorry to have woken you."

Halvard smiled, pleased to be stealing this moment in the late hours often reserved for the grown ups. Unable to articulate this, and distracted by the reunion with his father, he threw his arms around Lorenz's neck. "We missed you."

Lorenz clasped Halvard's back a little more tightly, imitating an embrace when he already held his son so dearly.

"I'm sure I missed you far more," Lorenz insisted, one of his hands finding a dangling leg and a small socked foot. He balked, "Goddess, is your room too cold, Halvard?" Glancing towards the moonlight, Lorenz asked too, concern in his tone, "Why is the window open?"

Lorenz deposited his son back into bed before setting to closing the thing.

"Oh, um," Halvard faltered, and Lorenz pouted as he turned back to his boy, pressing magically warm hands around his toes.

"You're not in trouble, sweetling," he insisted. "I just don't want you falling ill."

A silence dragged on, Lorenz taking a moment to dispel the magic from his left hand to try and check the temperature on Halvard's chest and forehead.

"I was ... I thought I might see you," Halvard admit, sheepishly, not meeting his eye.

Any political victories felt pathetic in the wake of Halvard's statement. Lorenz had to steel himself for a moment, reminding himself of ways in which other children would benefit from the trade and bonds he made, even if his own son might not feel much difference.

Lorenz pressed a warm hand to Halvard's cheek and assured him, "I should be home for a long, long while now." He tapped the boy's nose again before releasing the rest of the magic, and starting to bundle him back in his bedsheets. "But, the next time I go, if you want to look outside, you'll be able to see better from the large window in the upstairs parlor. I'll let your nanny know you might ask to sleep there sometime, alright?"

At least those windows didn't open.

"But you're not leaving again soon?" Halvard repeated, giving Lorenz cause to smile.

"No, Halvard," he assured him. "And I'll definitely be around tomorrow, so get some sleep, alright?"

"Okay."

"Okay," Lorenz confirmed, standing. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Lorenz had thought to sneak a gift into Halvard's room, but after waking him had kept it tucked away in a satchel on his side, for fear of exciting the boy far too much for sleep. The gift would keep until morning.

As he passed a long window, from which he could see his guards, Lorenz bristled, wondering if any of those who'd traveled with him were they who'd started the rumors that, since Halvard resembled so strongly his mother's side of the family, his father could be anyone. The gossip annoyed him most for fear of Halvard ever catching wind of it, remembering Fae's predicament when people would say the same of their father. There was no need or cause for Halvard to wonder about his origins, nor doubt that, in the impossible reality that they were not bound by blood, anyone but he could be his father. The slight against his honor was irritating, but the implied disrespect towards Hilda left Lorenz incensed. Yet he hesitated to reprimand anyone who bothered with the slander, for fear of lending credence to their conversations.

Light glowed around the door frame to his bedroom, and Lorenz felt guilty as he moved to try the handle, wondering whether Hilda was yet up working at this late hour, or whether he'd simply been the reason for her rousing when the messenger arrived.

The knot in his stomach tightened and curled as the door opened, to reveal that not only one, but several candles had been lit, and the room was bathed in their orange glow. Hilda lay back on the base of the bed, in such a haphazard way that it might look like she'd fallen there.

Her heavy lashes blinked open as Lorenz closed the door behind himself.

"Sorry for the hour," Lorenz cooed, leaning on the wall as he took to removing his indoor shoes.

Hilda sighed heavily, a smile on her lips despite her exhaustion. "What kept you?" She sat up, adjusting her nightgown. "I didn't expect to fall asleep waiting for your return just from the gates."

Lorenz chuckled, moving to the bed. He reached out towards Hilda's far elbow, sliding a curled hand down to her wrist, where she could only just bend her fingers to the side of his palm.

"I'm so sorry, Hilda. I shouldn't have kept you waiting."

She hitched her free hand up to hook around his neck, leaning in for a long, chaste kiss.

"Welcome home," Hilda purred.

"Thank you, love," Lorenz answered.

They fell into casual conversation of the contents of his letters, and the work Hilda had been busy with since he'd been away. For all her bluster about him being worse than her brother with correspondence, Lorenz knew Hilda had worried about his security on his most recent journey when out of company with Claude. He could tell she'd appreciated his diligent notes. Stronger still was how she radiated her contentment with their domesticity. It was enough to force away any lingering misgivings about keeping her awake.

Lorenz had been preparing to change into bed clothes, but stopped mid conversation, when Hilda, standing next to him by the open dresser, placed a hand on his bare chest. Releasing his grip on the clothing in the drawers, he entwined his fingers with hers, turning to look at her, feeling a blush beginning to boil.

"Hilda, I'm exhausted," he murmured, worried he was being too forward.

She looked sympathetic. Hilda had expected Lorenz to misunderstand her intentions.

"I figured you would be," she said kindly, crowding in on his space. "Go lay down."

He brought her hand to his lips before nodding, and following her direction.

"Why do you think I even bothered waking," Hilda teased as she fetched a bottle of oil. "Roll over."

Lorenz huffed once before stretching out on his stomach, knowing better than to argue with Hilda when she was actually motivated to action. Soon, his appreciative grunts were mixed with heavy breathing, bordering on snores, as her strong hands massaged the warm fluid into his tired muscles. She was quiet as she worked, crooking her fingers into the places she’d know she’d find little knots and points of tension where he carried his stress; ever attentive when she graced one with affection.

He roused when she rolled off of straddling him, making her way about the room to snuff the candles. He smiled when she returned to his line of vision, and pressed a warm kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," he mumbled, his voice caught in his crossed arms.

Hilda wrapped her husband in a strong embrace, tangling a leg between his and pressing another kiss to his shoulder, relieved at his return.

"You can return the favor tomorrow."

He chuckled, adjusting his position in her arms, as the pair of them drifted into sleep.


	3. First Pregnancy (Fae x Claude)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.

The day was more humid than hot, the sky blanketed in rolling clouds of purple even under the stress of the midday sun. Fae walked the ramparts of the city Sarim called home, surrounded by guards, both loyal and foreign, keeping step behind Claude and his cousin, allowing them to lead the conversation that had long since drifted from official business.

To one side of the wall, stood the city, thick and deep and populous, alive with light and music even with the threat of the encroaching storm. To the other, stretched a landscape of irrigated red earth, that may have even appeared barren to many who'd expect farmsteads to look green and floral, but few of the crops from this area breached the earth, and stunted root vegetables and sparse little flowers danced in anticipation of the rain.

Either side of the wall was punctuated by shouts of people and wyverns alike, organizing shelter and security of property as the winds hitched up around them.

Even so, when Fae cried out, their voice drew the attention of all who surrounded them.

A thud, a throb, a pulse had wracked their body from low in their gut. Fae could feel it throughout all of them, but especially in their ears. They thought they had felt something like this once before, and vaguely remembered fainting at their father's feet. A trembling sensation curled up into their spine, made worse and more terrifying by a steady beat underneath. Fae wondered if it was the pulse of blood, and touched the base of their stomach before bringing their hand to their eyes, and upon finding their hand dry, wondered idly about poison.

It was then that they'd shouted. They'd intended to call for Claude, but when the convulsing inside of them continued what fell from their lips was just noise, as Fae fell to a knee.

Claude was running to them instantly, his face twisted in worry. He was saying something but Fae couldn't focus on anything but the feeling inside of them, clutching their stomach tighter.

Fae could see their guards advancing on Sarim, who appeared to be shouting indignantly, throwing his arms up behind Claude, who was still trying to get their attention. Fae could only make out the shape of their name on his lips before losing consciousness.

The sea, Fae had only seen it rarely, but that was what the noise sounded like in their dream-mind. The flood and swell of the tide, the rush and ebb of the shore. They dreamed of Rhodos Coast, and of being pulled into the deep, dark, blue unknown.

Fae woke with deep struggling breaths, as if roused from drowning. They rolled about in an unfamiliar bed, to face Claude seated across from them. He was instantly falling to his knees at the bedside, framing their face in both hands, assuring them.

"Breathe, breathe. Shhhh, you're okay," he pressed his forehead to theirs, and Fae could hear how shaken he was. "I'm here. We're here."

Fae reached out to shove him away with both hands, swallowing a retch.

"Claude," they whimpered.

He swiveled aside and looked about for a bucket or pot, before helping Fae through their bout of sickness. After another moment of rubbing the back of Fae's neck and shoulders, Claude explained very calmly that he was going to fetch a healer, but Fae was clinging still to his shoulder.

"Wait," Fae begged.

"Fae," Claude answered, also begging, wanting to find someone who might be better suited to treat them.

"I need you to know that this isn't like the sun stroke," Fae said desperately, pulling their bottom lip into their mouth nervously for a moment.

"I know," Claude insisted, holding their hand on his shoulder.

"There's something wrong with me," Fae said, holding the part of their body which felt as though it convulsed inside them. "I can feel it. I can hear it."

"I'll be right back with help," Claude repeated, pressing a kiss to their forehead.

It felt like he'd just said the words, when Fae realized they were laying back into the pillows. They wondered whether Claude had helped them, or whether they'd moved on their own. They couldn't remember. And still there was that distracting throbbing in their gut, like all their blood was pouring out of them, rushing past their ears like a river. Fae skewed their eyes shut, holding their throat and their stomach as they waited for the comfort of company or the relief of diagnosis.

There were two healers tasked with the care of the Monarch. One of them spoke with Claude in hushed voices in the corner, while the other reassessed Fae's condition. Fae remembered their father being odd about having their injuries treated years ago, and Seteth fretting about the security of the blood he and Flayn shared, and worried as the healer dabbed at their forehead, took a swab to their mouth and even asked after taking a sample of blood.

"If it's poison," the healer said calmly, "we're lucky it hasn't killed you yet, your Majesty. It would be the best way to know."

Fae looked to Claude nervously, and to their relief, he'd been paying attention.

"Where would you test it?" he asked cautiously. "And how long would it take?"

"There's a lab down the hall, and anywhere from an hour to five," they confirmed with a nod.

Claude winced, addressing Fae, "Would you want me to monitor their work, or stay here with you? I would feel better if we let them take your blood."

"I," Fae peeped, suppressing a sob, "I trust you. Please ensure the sample's destroyed when they're done."

Fae was left in the company of a servant for a long time afterwards, given time and supplies to wash their mouth and body, and change their clothes. They disturbed him only once afterwards, for something to write with, setting about a personal letter to Seteth, writing about missing his council and his company, and asking his advice when feeling adrift in a foreign environment. They hesitated writing about their current predicament, knowing their words would just be emotional and frightened; inappropriate, unless the healers confirmed there was a reason to fret.

After the first hour, a healer started making periodic checks to Fae's stomach, to check for bruising based on the sensations they described, but each time they could find nothing to indicate internal bleeding.

In the laboratory, Claude recognized a fair bit of the equipment from his time with potions and poisons, but he dared not offer to help with the healers' work. It felt like it would be a violation against Fae to do so.

Instead, he seated himself by a wall in the room and watched, eagle-eyed, that none of Fae's blood ended up in extra vials or on cotton swabs tucked into pockets.

The healers pulled him from his worries at one point to engage in polite conversation, describing their honor and other similar platitudes that Claude suffered through with his most genuine political smile; one of many that didn't find its way to his eyes.

Every few minutes they would provide updates, saying there was no signs of one abnormality or another, which only made Claude feel more and more sick. If it weren't something easily recognizable, then would it be beyond their means to test for? How long would it take to reunite Fae with people who knew of their circumstances? Should he never have brought them to Almyra?

It was sometime in the third hour when Claude caught sight of the two healers sharing a look over their latest experiment.

"What is it?" he asked, standing, unfamiliar with their current work.

"There's just ... something we didn't expect to see in their Majesty's blood," one explained, which could have literally meant anything and so Claude let his shoulders slump, "but we will continue testing, to be sure there's no sign of danger."

Their phrasing worried Claude, and he thought of Remire as he asked, "What do you think you've seen in your Monarch's blood?"

"I ... should tell you in the company of your spouse," they answered, giving Claude further cause to grimace as the other healer elbowed them and argued.

"You would refuse his Majesty?"

The first healer shook their head, and Claude could've sworn they appeared annoyed, which was not quite the reaction he'd been expecting. They met his eye as if he were a nuisance, and said more firmly, "Then I will tell you at least when I have finished the other tests. It would be better to know the whole of it, before being presumptuous."

It was another two and a half hours before the healer graced Claude with an explanation of this statement.

Claude held a hand over his mouth, trying to compose himself enough to ensure that Fae's blood samples were properly burned, rinsed and disposed of before he could tear himself from the lab, like a wyvern in a sandstorm, or a deer from an avalanche. He was nearly laughing. He was certainly crying. His guards had slumped in a door frame, and stumbled in confusion as they followed Claude's long, clumsy steps down the halls.

When Claude burst into Fae's room, they met his eyes, and had to wonder what the expression on his face was telling them. They could assume it wasn't bad news, or at least not the worst, but he was so flustered that clearly something note-worthy had been discovered.

"What have you found out?" Fae asked, sitting a little straighter, putting their letters by the bedside.

Claude nodded the servant out of the room before moving to sit by his spouse, taking both of their hands in his. He allowed himself a soft laugh, knowing, hoping, needing Fae to share in his wonder as soon as possible. He pressed his forehead to theirs, telling Fae that their lives were about to become even more full of chaos, of responsibility, of love, with two words. "You're pregnant."

Fae's grip on Claude's hands tightened, and they kept their vision on their joined hands now, blushing as they reflected on their joined bodies.

They pulled away to meet Claude's gaze, thinking to ask if he and the healers were sure, but this expression of his held no subtlety. Fae kissed him, intending it to have been brief, but Claude easily fell into it, infecting Fae with his boundless joy even as they forced down the feelings of sickness brought on by the pulse that had caused them such distress.

Fae moved a hand to Claude's chest, both to press him back and to acknowledge their feeling.

"I have a heart inside me."

Claude chuckled, before letting concern wash over him again. "I've never heard of someone feeling something like that ... but with your body it is very new so ..." He sighed, moving his free hand to their shoulder, "Are you alright?"

"I'm so happy." Fae admit, kissing him again before insisting, "I'll be more careful, I promise. No more fainting."

"I'll just have to stand closer to you," Claude murmured against Fae's temple, letting his arm slip the rest of the way around them.

It was then that the healer rapped upon the door. They came with news of how far along they presumed Fae to be, as well as more serious medical advice and the like. Even after ensuring either of the Monarchs could repeat what they told them back to them, they ended up filling out several long pages of information to be brought or sent to whomever would handle their pregnancy back in the capital before releasing them.

They hadn't expected to be out so long, and so neither were properly dressed for the storm, cold and wet as it was. Claude apologized to their guards as their little group made their way through the empty streets to Sarim's estate. Fae insisted they had no need of Claude's support, distracted from the feeling that lingered inside of them by the whistling wind, on top of getting absolutely drenched. Yet still Claude held on, for fear of wet cobblestones and fainting.

It was another hour of making nice to Sarim, who joked that it was Claude who had poisoned his spouse after all, before Fae and Claude were left alone to his guestrooms.

Long since changed into soft, dry nightclothes, Fae sat on the edge of the bed with Claude rested upon the floor between their legs, as they combed his damp, windswept hair.

"I'm so stupid," Fae declared suddenly, laughing, shaking their head, raising their hands up away from him, and Claude tsked. "I should have had some inkling. I worried myself for nothing. We wanted this - were trying for this, and still I ..."

"You're fine," Claude insisted. "We're fine." His voice was bright, "Now we know."

"Now we know," Fae agreed, setting the comb aside to gently untangle a knot with their careful fingers. They sighed. "Tell me it's going to be alright."

"Everything is more than alright," Claude assured them, raising his hand back over his shoulder, feeling his heart swell when Fae tangled their fingers with his, "and will continue to be."

"My mother died in childbirth," Fae whispered, feeling small, not quite voicing one of the many little fears rearing in the back of their mind.

Claude's throat went dry. The worst of it was that they both knew that this might not even be true, but this was hardly the time for that discussion. Much more pressing was Fae thinking that there was any chance of Claude not doing everything to secure their safety. He had worried about their alliances, their marriage, but having made it this far, there was no way he could picture his future without them.

He turned to face his spouse, rolling around the floor on his knees, moving his hands to slide up and down Fae's thighs. "I haven't forgotten," he said, sadly, "but whatever happened then, isn't going to happen now. How many challenges have we risen to, together? This is no different. I'm here with you."

"Claude," Fae protested, "we should consider -"

"I won't," he insisted. "We've talked about this. I absolutely will not."

Fae closed their eyes, moving to link their hands over his, running a fingertip back and forth over his wedding ring.

"I know," they sighed, pouting. "I want to have this child with you. I want to be a parent. I want to be by your side as we birth and witness families in our new land. I just worry that I want too much."

Claude laughed, heartbroken, burying his face in Fae's left thigh a moment before raising his crumpled smile to them. "You give your whole life for others, for me; let the rest of us worry about your health through this." He took to standing. "Children are born all the time." And crawling over their waist upon the bed. "We're going to have the family you're dreaming of."

He was warm, and solid, and comforting, and Fae focused on being pinned beneath him. Here and now, there was nothing wrong, and every reason to celebrate.

They kissed Claude like he might disappear, like they might disappear, holding the small of his back as he sunk into the bed.

As Fae drifted into sleep that night, wrapped in the covers and Claude’s heavy embrace, they found themselves hypnotized by the sounds that echoed in their body, and squeezed themselves closer, willing strength to that little heartbeat and to their own tired frame.


	4. In Mourning (Lorenz x Claude)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.
> 
> This one is sad, but hurt/comfort sad and not angst sad.
> 
> Trigger warnings for death, parent death, and strained parent relationships.

When Claude and Faedolyn had received Lorenz and Hilda's invitation to attend the funeral ceremony in a week's time for the late Count Gloucester, they'd gone to great effort to reorient their affairs to accommodate the journey. It would have been obvious even without Hilda's attached letter that this weighed on Lorenz, and so despite being able to present their attendance as being for reasons of propriety and procedure, they readied themselves for a personal journey.

Hilda and Fae had each already lost their parents, but in so far as they knew them, these had been good relationships; able to be properly mourned. Lorenz's relationship with his father had been tumultuous, and the loss had left him adrift, with conflicts unresolved and things left unsaid.

The Monarchs arrived the day before the funeral, by which time Lorenz had already had to entertain many who had come to pay respects to his father. He was curt and bordering on irritable, and found no time to speak with anyone in confidence until the body lay buried in the family plot. Now there was time to speak, but no desire.

He had gone to the main house with Hilda, so that she didn't have to host this final gathering of his father's esteemed guests alone. That would be a scandal. The moment that the event was over however, he'd walked back to the tombstone and stood, staring at the thing.

Twice, guards passed him, and Lorenz could hear their whispers of sympathy, assuming the dutiful son stood lamenting the loss of his father. They weren't entirely wrong.

Late in the night another set of footsteps passed, and approached, and soon Lorenz found his shoulders being wrapped in a thick coat, warm from both body heat and rich fabric. He raised an eyebrow as he reached up to touch the material, and turned to Claude, ever compassionate.

Lorenz pulled the coat more tightly around himself, before looking about in the dim light of the torches and the sky overhead, wondering about guards and prying eyes.

"Hilda wanted me to ask you to come in, but we don't need to go if you don't want to," Claude said kindly, giving Lorenz cause to scoff.

"Did she ask you this in front of your guards?"

"Yes. In writing," Claude answered, smartly. Which was met with a long silence.

"You know," Lorenz said finally, looking again to the grave, "now, is when I should have been succeeding my father. I should have had the last eight years, the last decade, to spend raising my children, and being present with my wife. Instead, I ruined my relationship with my father, and forced myself into a position of power - and I tell myself it was for altruistic means, but - did I care about the common folk? Have I cared for them enough? Was my concern for my family's reputation truly philanthropic, or just selfish? Have I only benefit from success because my father slighted me, personally, when he objected to my marriage to Hilda?"

Claude took a deep breath, and a step forward, as if he were going to speak, but Lorenz met his gaze, tears in his purple eyes as he said, almost in reproach, "He killed your uncle, Claude. He killed the man who would be his Duke for ambition. And everyone knew it. I must have known. There must have been things I missed. And all the excuses I made for him during the War of Flames ... I wanted him to be so much better than he was. I don't think I was ever under the illusion that he could love me, but I wanted ... I suppose respect, at least. To be seen as his son, and not an asset."

He slumped, sobbing, surprised to find himself caught, held up by Claude, who was mercifully silent, as Lorenz broke down.

"Where would my ambitions have stopped, if I had not gotten my way? Could I have become my father? Could I still? Will I one day be buried here, by his side for future generations to reflect on how lovely our relationship must have been, that my father would have stepped down to allow me to pursue revolution?"

Far quieter than the rest of his rambling Lorenz too lamented, "Will I one day be to my son, as my father is to me?"

Lorenz looked around himself again, feeling he must look like quite the feral animal as he bristled, before hissing, "And all these guests, Claude. Thinking that knowing the man was something to be proud of. I ... wish my relationship with him had been that distant, that I might think this a sad parting."

Claude grimaced, stroking some loose hair behind Lorenz's ear. "There's something to drink in the breast pocket," he offered, weakly.

Lorenz took to fumbling for the flask, drinking of the bitter, fiery contents with the same lack of regard his current state of disarray had put him in. He offered Claude the container as he spoke again at a more muted and controlled volume, sounding far more like himself.

"When I discovered he'd died, I had to insist upon an autopsy. I truly couldn't rule out that someone hadn't poisoned him, and whether my family were in danger. And that," he said with finality, "is how I will remember my father."

Accepting the flask again, Lorenz sipped with more restraint. He thought they might stand in silence now, as he had before, he was sure Claude would permit it, but as he was still rested in his lover's arms, Lorenz wanted to be so far away from his father's influence that he would find him as less than a memory.

Lorenz asked, broken and desperate, "Can we go somewhere else? Maybe the garden?"

Claude nodded, slowly leaning away, careful in case Lorenz slipped in his delirium, before allowing him to lead the way.

They found a bench, hidden among some hedges, from where they couldn't quite be snuck up upon. Lorenz took to sitting first, laying his hand on the stone where Claude would eventually find his place, ghosting flames from his right hand over the surface so that it wouldn't be so chilled from the autumn air when he took a seat. Claude snickered once, touched by the gesture, sitting just far enough away for Lorenz to give him a look of confusion until Claude extended an arm.

With darting, nervous eyes, Lorenz confirmed their seclusion before accepting the embrace. Claude was so warm and comforting as Lorenz leaned across the bench to rest his head upon his breast, bringing a hand up over his mouth as he sobbed once, twice; falling into an unseemly and embarrassing fit of tears as Claude wrapped a thick arm around his middle, rocking himself softly as he shushed Lorenz with calm and loving whispers.

When Lorenz was close to having cried his last, he was pulling a handkerchief from his pockets, unused throughout the day, but sorely needed now. He almost apologized, but caught himself and instead managed a small, fractured thank you.

Claude pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Any time. I'm so sorry, Lorenz."

"I -" And Lorenz nearly found himself taking the statement too literally, on the verge of insisting there was nothing for Claude to apologize for, without realizing the depth of those simple words. He sighed, saying again, "Thank you."

Claude took a deep breath, like he were risking a plunge into a deep ocean, worried he were far overstepping, but feeling now would be the time for comfort.

"You could never be your father. You never were your father."

Lorenz chuckled, sitting up and away, holding his forehead in one hand. "So Hilda tells me, and I often worry I've fooled her somehow, that she's missed the signs. You don't need to humor me."

"Lorenz. There is almost no comparison. You're here because your father was unable to accomplish the things you've done. There's no shame in the life you've found."

Lorenz took a long stuttered breath, and Claude hazarded a harsh truth, to cement these differences, "You love your son." Lorenz was sobbing, but not standing, nor objecting, nor running, so Claude continued, "He will have that all his life, and you will have him."

His face buried in his hands, a blubbering mess, Lorenz let himself roll back into Claude's chest, apparently not finished mourning.

This time, when Lorenz felt his breathing steady, he didn't pull away from the embrace, instead pushing himself closer into Claude's space, straddling one of his legs as he sat up in his lap, pouting a little when he realized he'd brought Claude to some tears also. He could feel that his face was red from crying, and reached out to cup Claude's face in hand, checking that he too was rosy from sadness and not the chill of the night, raking his fingers from his beard into his hair and the shell of his ear while he was still feeling so bold.

They kissed softly under the moonlight, tasting faintly of alcohol and tears. When Lorenz pulled away, Claude clasped tightly to his upper arms, holding him close enough to admire.

"Claude," Lorenz begged, looking to be released from the threat of discovery.

Claude smiled sadly, loosening his grip so that Lorenz could slip away to sit again at his side, comforted at least when his left hand dripped down into Lorenz's right, a warm and unfamiliar gesture.

"Come to Derdriu," Claude said suddenly, a squeeze upon Lorenz's hand.

"What?" Lorenz laughed.

"Fae and I are expected there in about a month's time. It would be good of you to make an appearance, maybe even a little freeing, from all this, and your children are old enough to appreciate it, though mine aren't."

"How long will you be there?" Lorenz asked carefully.

"A while," Claude droned, "maybe six weeks."

"Then I will make the effort," Lorenz agreed, squeezing back, clasping his free hand around where theirs were joined for a moment, before beginning to extract himself, reaching for the coat about his shoulders, offering it to Claude's lap. "I should go reassure Hilda."

"Sure," Claude sighed, squeezing his hands in the coat instead.

"Are you coming?"

He winked, a complicated smile struck on his features as he agreed, "I'm right behind you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so doesn't the game imply Lorenz was like ten years old when Godfrey von Riegan died? He was too young to know anything. Claude's twins are like a year ish old. Halvard is like seven ish, Lorencia is like four ish. I'm not writing the snippets chronologically. I saw someone else writing an opportunity for their faves to cry and I'm like ... Okay, but soft.


	5. Barely A Scare (Claude x Fae)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.
> 
> I started writing this on Halloween, it has a vague theme but really nothing to do with the holiday.

Nader and Geralt had spent the past three weeks learning about Demonic Beasts and how they had shaped impressions of and life within Fodlan. Naturally the inked designs in their text and storybooks had piqued the imaginations of two young, mischievous boys. Spurred on by tales from their father, and anyone else who would spare a tailored word or two about these monstrosities of a bygone era, the twins had taken ink and paint to a bed sheet and practiced running about in a line as a facsimile of the horrors.

After running about in the open had worn out its novelty, Nader had tempted Geralt away from the eyes of their guardians, and they'd taken to hiding in cupboards, in stables, and all over the castle with the goal in mind of shocking whoever would happen upon them. Several successful attempts had goaded them to their most recent target, their parents. It wasn't a long wait, it was late in the evening, and soon they heard the familiar footfalls of their father making his way through the closet in which they hid.

"Rarragr!" came the joint cry from the trunk on the floor, bursting open to reveal the pile of revelry which had replaced its contents.

Whether rational or not, Claude did startle, gasping as he pulled away from the surprise. While initially relieved that it would be only he and his sons who were witnessing his brief moment of fright, almost instantly he was struck by a jolting pain down the back of his neck, and was shouting out in pain, rather than alarm at being confronted by any sort of beast. Even the twins could tell the difference.

"Ah! Fu-" Claude caught himself, "-un. Fun game guys. Ow."

He found that he couldn't straighten and reached up to touch his neck gingerly. The twins were pulling the sheet up over their shoulders to look at their father more seriously than the holes in their disguise would allow.

"Are you okay, Baba?" asked Geralt.

"Did we hurt you?" worried Nader.

"It was Nader's idea!" Geralt insisted, shooting his brother a look.

"You - you picked -!" Nader started to argue.

"Hey!" Claude called, silencing them as he squinted and forced himself down to his knees. "No fighting." He touched Nader's head. "It was a good idea." Claude smiled as relief washed over the twins, and he reached into the trunk to lift them each out to the floor. "Let's get you out of there. Where're your nannies?"

"Tamara was with Miri and Sadaf," said Geralt.

"I last saw Vera in the kitchens," admitted Nader.

Claude sighed, as both were hidden confessions of having snuck away from their caretakers.

"I know you think playing around them isn't as much fun as playing alone, but I really wish you wouldn't run away from people who just want to keep you safe."

The irony wasn't lost on him, as he thought of all the time he spent on his own as a child, voluntary or otherwise.

"No one got hurt!" insisted Nader.

"I know," Claude acknowledged.

"Sorry Baba."

"It's alright. I forgive you. Let's see if Tamara's still in your sister's room."

As they walked down the hall, Claude's pain started to subside and so he took the time to compliment the twins on their horrifying costume. They beamed and took turns explaining how they chosen this type of demonic beast based on the stories they heard and how they didn't have a red ink and so they'd borrowed some paint from the staff in the east wing - actually borrowed, and not just stolen away, and Tamara had helped with the scissors.

They ran into the woman just outside of Sadaf's room. She looked red faced and humiliated.

"Your Majesty," she began, and Claude could tell she could easily have been about to apologize in a way that could hurt his children, and so raised his hand to silence her before greeting her kindly.

"There you are, Tamara. I think Geralt has something to say to you." He squeezed the boy's shoulder for good measure.

"Really?" Geralt begged, already knowing what was being asked of him. Claude wondered whether that meant the whole effort was for naught.

"Yes," he insisted anyway. "Do you understand why you're apologizing?"

"Yes," Geralt exaggerated. "I'm sorry Tamara, for running off on my own again, even though -"

"Ah, ah!" Claude cut him off. "That's enough. Take responsibility." He placed a heavy gaze on Nader, until he stopped giggling. "You're going to have to apologize too, Nader, once I find Vera. In the meantime," Claude addressed the nanny, "do you think you can handle helping these two prepare for bed?"

She blushed and bowed. "Of course, your Majesty." Tamara smiled at Geralt, but it was stiff and unpracticed, "You're forgiven, little prince. I too am sorry that I was not more mindful in watching over you."

Claude was embarrassed by the effort it took to remember, but he was pretty sure that Tamara had lost track of Geralt four times now, while Vera had failed to follow Nader in six instances. It pained him to think of replacing yet more childminders, but if the boys had decided to hide anywhere more dangerous, they could easily find themselves stuck or fallen or squished or burnt and ... perhaps he should look into mercenaries that had been parents to look over them, instead of the usual crowd. He'd have to discuss it with Fae another day, it was going to take all of his energy just to send Vera back to the children's rooms and fall into his bed.

When Claude finally found his way to his bedroom, Fae was seated at the vanity, brushing their hair, having changed into nightclothes and a bed robe. They smiled at him as he entered and it struck him for the thousandth time how blessed he was. 

"I thought you'd be here before me," Fae cooed, reaching out to him so that he would come sit opposite them on the bed, rather than at the end of it where he hovered in indecision. "Shall we go say goodnight to the children?"

"In a minute," Claude answered, sitting where they'd requested but then flopping onto his back out of reach, sinking into the covers.

Fae laughed, moving about to lay next to him, sneaking a hand across to the buttons on his chest. "Alright. Let me undress you."

"Can you," Claude hesitated as he shook his head back and forth, "rub my neck, also?"

"Of course," Fae answered, slipping a leg around Claude's middle, straddling him carefully as their fingers curled behind his ears. "Just sore?"

"Not exactly," Claude admit. "The twins were in our closet earlier, disguised as a Demonic Beast. The costume was actually really good, you should ask to see it tomorrow. But I gave myself whiplash or hurt an old wound or ... maybe I'm just getting old, and I hurt my neck twisting away from them."

Fae was laughing at him as they rolled to his side, and Claude chuckled too.

"Oh no ..." they cooed. "Were they proud?"

"No, I think I frightened them," Claude said sheepishly.

"Aww."

"Are you awwing me or them?"

"Both, I think. Sit up."

Claude squeezed Fae's thigh before complying, smiling softly as he felt them shuffle around behind him. Seated on their feet, Fae pressed their thumbs to either side of Claude's spine and their fingertips into his neck.

"Oh, yeah," he purred before a squeak. "Ah-ha! Softer, please." And he was sighing pleasurably through the following few minutes of their affections, until only their index, middle and ring fingers touched him with a soft Healing spell. He winced, the magic feeling like a snap and a warm pulse, and a reminder of worse weathered injuries. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Fae said before kissing the back of his neck. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"Come on," they insisted. "I can give you more of a rub down when we get back."

"My hero," he answered, wondering if they heard it as an exaggeration, while he meant it in every implication.

Somehow, Claude and Fae had gone from having the twins sleeping at the foot of their bed, to conceding that they did need a nanny, to now needing one for each child, or else the twins would run off in different directions and leave a guardian paralyzed between them. Even so, the nannies did not reside in the children’s rooms, and only guards patrolled the hall to secure the safety of the royal children, and ensure they didn’t sneak out into the night for mischief.

As such, it was with privacy that Fae and Claude found their children, going first to Sadaf’s room where she was on the floor by the window, near a pair of stuffed wyverns. Though her parents were obviously interrupting her playtime, Sadaf looked happy, if a little glossed over with sleep and distraction. She giggled once, and took off in the direction of her parents, where Fae scooped her up.

“Hello Sadaf,” Fae greeted.

“Hello Renny,” Sadaf said, running clumsy fingers through Fae’s hair, before reaching her chubby little arms towards Claude. “Hello Baba.”

“Did you learn anything interesting today?” asked Fae as Claude stole their daughter away from them, accepting Sadaf’s embrace.

“Noooo,” Sadaf answered, rather unconvincingly.

“No?” Claude pressed with a laugh, starting to bounce his child, despite her probably being beyond the age where this might be comforting. “Why not?”

“Nader said to say no,” Sadaf said, her voice hushing with each word, too young to understand whatever secret her brother had tried to share with her.

Fae pouted. “Do you know why he said that?”

“He said that it was a joke.”

Fae shared a look with Claude who asked Sadaf, “So now you think you’re funny too?”

“You laughed,” she squealed gleefully, so that Claude squinted despite being forced to concede as she squirmed in his grasp.

“You’re right, you’re right, I did laugh,” Claude agreed, chuckling again.

Fae rolled their eyes fondly from behind their daughter, licking their lips as they seemed to consider how much trouble their little royal trio was soon to be. Still, their tone was steady as they asked Sadaf, “Do you want to come say goodnight to your brothers with us?”

“Yes, please,” Sadaf answered in her squeaky little voice, easily leaning into her father as they made their way across the hall.

Nader and Geralt had been offered each their own room their past two birthdays, but thus far enjoyed the shared space. They were huddled together on Nader’s bed, sitting up against the wall, looking at a thick book that Claude would have bet his title and reputation on being open to pages of Demonic Beasts and similar creatures.

“Good evening, are you boys going to read us a bedtime story?” Fae teased, easily making their way to the bed to sit beside their boys. Geralt crawled over them anyway, to sit at their opposite side so that Fae was perched in the middle, where the book could be shared.

Nader whined, a poorly hidden smile on his face, “We’re getting too old for bedtime stories.”

“But I’m not,” Fae insisted, tousling his hair.

“Are you looking at something too scary for your sister?” asked Claude, hovering.

“I’m not scared,” peeped the little girl in his arms.

“I know, princess,” he assured her, leaving a kiss on her temple.

Fae winked at their husband and flipped ahead a few pages before nodding him over. They took Geralt around the waist and pulled him up into their lap as Claude found his way to the bed.

“Also,” Claude added, “‘getting too old’ is not ‘too old.’” And moreover, he kept to himself, reading facts about birds of prey and their ecology was in no way a ‘story,’ but at least this kept his children entertained. Even Sadaf spun around in his arms and hung off his house coat as she leaned closer to look at the artwork of patterns in their feathers.

When Claude and Nader shared a yawn, Fae giggled and decided to free them, reaching for the thread in the spine of the tome to mark their page.

“Alright, you can come back to this another time,” they insisted, and it must’ve been late because there came no protests.

“You’re still going to play with us tomorrow, right?” asked Geralt, looking up at Fae from where he slouched.

“Yes, I’m leaving Baba to handle things until the evening, so I’ll be able to do whatever you like until it’s time for your lessons,” Fae assured him and Nader both, who was rolling over sideways while his family still crowded on his bed. Fae pinched his covers around him.

“And then the next day we’re all going riding,” Claude reminded his children.

“I’ll give Ghaymah lots of kisses,” Sadaf mumbled into Claude.

“Ghaymah doesn’t need kisses,” grumbled Nader.

“Says who?” asked Claude, genuinely curious, but Nader just shrugged deeper into his pillows as his family left his bed.

With a huff, Claude straightened Sadaf in his arms. “Ghaymah would love your kisses, princess,” he assured her.

Fae stroked Geralt’s forehead as he settled on his side in his own bed, and Claude started the echo around the room of good nights and wishes of sweet dreams which soundly faded into nothing as Fae doused the lamp.

After setting Sadaf down next, Fae and Claude were almost out the door when her soft voice called out, “Baba?”

Claude grimaced at Fae, who smirked and shoved at him, before leaning on the wall to wait.

“Yes, Sadaf?”

She had already sat back up again, knees curled to her chest, her large green eyes, so like his own, imploring him long before her words.

“Would you tell me a real story? The one with the girl and the sandstorm?”

Only the barest temptation to say no flashed through Claude’s mind. Still scarred from war and tragedy, simple indulgences were always hardest for him to refuse, fearing that if he asked her to wait for another night, that anything might happen to steal his chance in the future.

“Of course, princess,” he conceded, moving to kneel by her bedside, encouraging her to lay back.

When he finally left his daughter’s bedroom, he found Fae still in the hall, seated upon the floor, resting against the wall. They smiled at him and reached out their hands for him to help them back to their feet as they asked, “I never noticed before, but is the snake in that story using your impression of Raphael?”

Claude chuckled at a whisper before answering, “It is. It must be one of my better ones if you could recognize him.”

Fae gave Claude a flat look; his impressions were notoriously terrible. Amused, he winked, and quickly found himself led by the hand down the hall. He and Fae both wished a good night to the guard stationed there, someone they knew by name and by years, who had the grace to smile politely and return the greeting.

Finally returned to their bedroom, the monarchs whispered and worried about the dangers their children might face, beyond Demonic Beasts; knowing their own parents could never have imagined the challenges they’d confronted in their lifetime. Meanwhile Fae rolled the heels of their palms into Claude’s neck, fulfilling their earlier offer. When they risked talking in circles, Claude turned to offer his spouse comforting kisses and heartfelt assurances as he pulled them down into the covers. They two were doing all they could otherwise, to protect their family and their people, and there was nothing left to pursue this night, other than sorely needed, safe, sound sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it'd be real cute if Fodlani kids had a Demonic Beast phase the way irl kids can have a dinosaur or wolf phase. I hope you liked it! A kudos or comment would be lovely!


	6. Names (Claude x Fae)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Fire Emblem properties and characters have credit to Nintendo and their respective creators / owners. I'm just playing.

Every day was becoming a long day of travel through the Fodlani countryside - the Omoyan countryside. Each little difference was still taking some getting used to, and it did feel like discovering a new land to Fae, especially as it had been months on years since they had traveled east of Garreg Mach. Omoya looked closer to the world they remembered travelling with their father all those years ago, it felt fitting that they would be here now with their family again; Claude and Alois at their side.

However, with soldiers and attendants overseeing their every move, there was no privacy to be had unlike those days long past. In the least, this offered a chance for the monarchs to occupy themselves when the hours dragged on. There were Almyrans and Fodlani people both on the ground and in the air, and in order to stand closer, and converse more intimately, Fae and Claude traveled by horseback. Messengers and dignitaries found them with business on the road, and their entourage offered gossip and less world shaking stories that exposed the state of the people and the country. The monarchs were each aware the pitfalls to be found in only keeping one measure of company.

It was strangely busy even between major destinations, and a little stifling to be hovered over by prudent guards. Even so, there were little moments to be found now, even while working and witnessed, where time could be spent together; counsel when working, laughter at mealtime and wyvern rides in the dead of night.

Fae had only in the past few years acquainted themselves with the constellations that so many associated with Seiros and her saints. As if trying to outrun their guards, Claude sped them through blackness and moonlit clouds, and for weeks they shared between them other ways to view the sky and guiding stars, him with tales of Almyra, and them with lessons from Geralt, which had certainly been clumsy, inaccurate retellings of stories from their mother's people. When they arrived in Remire, maybe there would be those Fae could ask.

The return to camp was slow, and Claude landed a little farther away than necessary from the orange glow of the fires and chattering crowds. He brought them down by the river, the water curling up and away from the gusts riled by Ghaymah's descent.

The flood of the current made a pleasing, familiar noise that drowned out the last bits of rushing air in the ears of her riders. Slowly, movement and sound became still, or as still as it ever was astride a swaying, groaning wyvern. Small insects sang in the night, and Fae squeezed around Claude's middle, pressing a kiss to his cheek as they wrapped closer around him.

Their positioning wasn't precarious. Not needing to assume each excursion was a sign of war and battle, a saddle had been tailored to fit the two riders. Fae could easily lean back and away from Claude, and feel secure that they wouldn't be thrown to the air if Ghaymah spun in flight, but they rarely risked losing contact with him during these night rides, for which he was relieved.

"Treat your wyvern," Fae said when their escort started to land between them and their camp, "and then come to bed."

Claude smiled and craned his neck for a fleeting moment of eye contact before meeting them in a broken, bitten kiss and agreeing, "I won't be long."

Fae was shuffling through missives when Claude found his way to their tent. He sighed in exasperation at the sound of paperwork, even as they smiled over their shoulder to greet him.

"What's stealing your attention?" he asked, and Fae knew that if it were truly business that he would stay up the whole night with them working through it if need be. They chuckled as they stacked the parchment.

"It's nothing. I'd just forgotten I'd tucked away some letters in my bag yesterday. I'll need to hand them off tomorrow to be destroyed or archived."

Claude sighed, relieved. He removed some of his more restrictive layers, though still preparing to sleep dressed enough to fight or flee ... some habits died harder than others. The road didn't offer the same assurances as stone walls.

"Anything interesting?" he asked, tripping over his memories.

"A note from an admirer," Fae answered instantly, and Claude raised an eyebrow before he remembered exactly what they were referencing.

"Yours or mine?" Claude teased as he sat on the cot that elevated their bedrolls from the cold ground.

"Mine of course," said Fae, deadpan in a way that had Claude blushing as he tucked his clothing into a bag. "I'd be worried if I were you," they continued, "I think he's getting serious."

"And you're tempted?" Claude purred as Fae snuffed a candle and met him in their shared sleeping space.

"Well," Fae considered, as the pair tangled together, resting their head under the crook of his chin with another laugh, "there are things he says to me in writing which you never say aloud, this admirer of mine."

Claude's smile was clear in his voice, "What kind of things?"

"He is very affectionate. I quite like that he calls me his darling, for one."

A sound escaped Claude's lips, like a syllable half-formed. Fae laughed as they squeezed themselves against him, as he seemed genuinely stumped. "You don't have to call me anything," Fae attested. "I just wondered when you might, if you would."

"I tried," Claude said, but the excuse sounded pathetic to his ears, and he pulled away, and shifted his body lower so that he could look Fae in the eyes, as well as the darkness allowed, his vision still adjusting. "I've wanted to." He wondered how well they could see, their large green eyes catching every faint trace of light in the din. Could they see how he was blushing?

"I'd never—" he hesitated. "Nicknames are one thing ... but this? When I first opened my mouth to try and call you m-my darling," Fae tilted their head as if into a caress, and Claude chuckled through his embarrassment, "the word just died on my lips. My feelings - my love for you, feels so big, and the word felt so small and silly. I'd been trying to come up with an alternative."

"It doesn't have to be complicated," Fae said with a pout, running a hand over Claude's bare arm, pinching him once as they met his eye again. "Or even consistent."

"Darling just feels so formal," Claude insisted in a soft and playful way. Fae had been addressing their letters 'Dear Heart,' and in person ... it seemed so easy for them to whisper, to growl, to murmur 'my heart,' 'lover,' 'sweet thing.' 

"Dear Heart," Fae purred, moving their fingertips to play with his hair, causing Claude to still, his heart swollen and his skin ablaze. If they asked for his heart, he was sure it would leap from his chest.

"Yes?"

"Yes, what?"

Claude blinked and bit his lips realizing the trap they'd caught him in. He leaned forward until their noses were touching as he conceded that maybe continued silliness wasn't going to poison his sincerity.

"Yes, darling?" he answered, and Fae was kissing him, deep and desperate and_ darling _.

Now he simply had to keep mindful of where and how frequently he used the pet name.

  
  


More than a year later, Fae was bloated with pregnancy and stark still in shock. They were sitting with Claude as a healer explained that there were signs of two heartbeats coming from their taxed and tired body.

The related discussions were long and varied, and caused Claude's eyes to glaze over in a way that Fae hadn't seen in years. He was simply ... overwhelmed; though they were too. They let him coddle them straight into bed, where they drifted into sleep.

Fae awoke in the middle of the night, holding their stomach in discomfort amidst the now familiar thuds, jitters and soft, strange sliding that indicated the tumbling of their children.

"Play nice," Fae whispered, now with the worry of two that they hadn't had previously, but still with a weak smile, satisfied and hopeful that they were keeping each other healthy.

Turning to look at Claude's side of the bed, Fae sighed, feeling its emptiness even before beholding the space. A look around the room offered the relief of his presence at least, slumped at a desk on the far side of the room. Slowly, Fae made their way over to him, dousing his lamp so that the room was awash only in the white light of the moon through three long windows, before pressing a hand between his shoulders.

"Hey," they called gently. "Hey wake up." They smiled as he startled, pulling a tired cheek from an open book, meeting their gaze with a look of confusion. "Hi."

"I was just—" Claude began.

"Sleeping," Fae finished for him.

"Heh ... I guess so," he conceded, before trying to speak more seriously, "but really I should—"

"Delegate," Fae insisted, raising an eyebrow to the scattered scrolls, papers and books piled around their husband.

"Fae," Claude whined.

"I don't know what you're up to," they admitted, stroking his dark hair, "but I know that means the importance is negligible, right? Because you would tell me if it was important."

Claude still looked disoriented, maybe. His attention wavered from his desk to their belly, to their eyes. "We're having twins."

"We are," Fae agreed, bringing a hand to their stomach and moving into a stance that offered themselves to be touched, "and they're going wild."

Claude let his eyes fall closed for a moment as he sighed, reaching out to touch his spouse's trembling body. "Oh. Fae. I … I should've been working on the Ordelia arrangement—"

"Again?" Fae piped in surprise.

"Yes, again, it's still not done," Claude groaned in defeat, before letting his tone hush to a more humble, embarrassed murmur, "but instead I've just been reading ... about twins, in birth and in Almyran history."

Fae smiled in understanding, wrapping their hands over his own as they said kindly, "You're welcome to tell me about it, in bed though, please."

With a nod, Claude took to his feet, bringing his free hand up to the side of Fae's face. They stretched out towards each other in a warm kiss, each grateful for the comfort.

"I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Fae crawled into bed only after Claude, to ensure he didn't sneak away to some other unknown task. As they rested back against their pillows they spoke again to the passengers in their body.

"Settle down now, young ones. Your father is here, like you wanted."

Fae pressed a hand to their belly and to their mouth, as if suppressing nausea, and so Claude worried, "Darling, are you alright?"

"Just a bit queasy, but I'm fine," they promised, moving the hand from their mouth again to his face, stroking at the beard on his cheek.

"Fae," Claude fussed, worried about having been distant. "Please don't put a brave face on for my sake."

"I'm not," Fae assured him, before addressing him with amusement in their tone, which he had not been expecting. "You're _ so _ worried. Does two really sound so different from one to you?"

He took a moment to compose himself, to keep from losing his mind at his pregnant partner.

"_Yes_," Claude insisted. "Pregnancies are an average of three weeks shorter. The ... the chances that one of the three of you not making it through birth or the eight months after are much higher. I'd previously been thinking how large you were," he hovered a hand over Fae's shivering belly once more, trying to picture the infants tumbling about inside them, "but now I worry you're not big enough ... They must be so small ..."

"Claude," Fae said, almost chuckling as they placed a hand over his, tangling their fingers together, "what did the healer say?"

"Too much," he answered, knowing they'd clarify if he expressed his confusion. He missed the intimacy of tangling between each other’s legs, whether hovering over Fae, or them resting upon his stomach; even when they looked him in the eye while laying at his side, he felt distanced. Claude snuggled closer, pressing his face into mint green hair, a short bob feathering around Fae’s ears. It seemed no bother to stretch his arm up beneath him in a strange and uncomfortable way to accommodate their closeness.

"They said both hearts were healthy," Fae explained, kind and firm. "Healthy. Say it."

An amused huff escaped him, and he pressed a kiss to their neck before complying. "Healthy."

"And what have you promised me since the beginning?"

Claude felt the blood rush to his face, because this answer he knew. He felt silly, and more unqualified than every other time he'd declared something similar, but still he answered.

"That everything is alright." He sighed, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be—"

"I love you," Fae said to interrupt him. They tilted their chin to lean against his forehead. "In truth, I'm glad you're finally worried, just a little. It makes me feel a little more justified about my own insecurities. We can be strong and unrelenting with others, but please share this with me. There's nothing here I'd want you to apologize for. I'm glad to have you with me; the three of us are."

Claude swallowed a lump in his throat the size of a fortress. His family was growing at a swift and unexpected rate. He pressed himself closer still, moving his hand from their grasp to cradle them more securely as he promised, "I will always, always, always be here for you."

Fae had one arm wrapped around Claude’s head, and they rubbed their fingertips on his scalp as they assured him, “We know, and we'll hold you to it.”

Claude pressed another kiss to the crook of Fae’s jaw. “Nothing could make me happier.”

Fae chuckled softly. “Do you want to tell me about Almyran history now, or after some sleep?”

“Oh,” Claude peeped, as if pained, “my darling, you must be exhausted.”

Fae shook their head, bringing their hand from their stomach up to wrap around Claude’s elbow. “Your babies will keep me up if you don't,” they assured him. “Do you want to talk to me until they calm down, at least?”

“Of course …” Claude answered slowly.

“In Almyran history there have been at least five rulers that have been twins ... At least four of them have tried to kill their siblings for power, with one succeeding ... that's why it's an odd number.” He sighed again, long and weary. “I don't want that for our children.”

“Claude,” Fae said, their voice full of pain and understanding and assurances. “We won't allow it.” They cradled his head and squeezed his arm, and Claude felt movement against his belly where he was flush to Fae’s side. “They will both be so loved and provided for, so sharp and kind like their father, that they could never be so cruel.” Fae’s tone betrayed their smile, as they teased him, “Besides, they won't have a malicious bone in their bodies, I'm making sure of it.”

“You would know, wouldn't you?” Claude chuckled as he nuzzled his head against their ear, before taking another slow, deep breath, and letting himself crumble a little more. “But,” he swallowed, “if we have to celebrate the birth of one child while mourning another, I'll …”

“Shh, Claude. I know.”

Of course they knew, but Fae didn’t sound judgmental or angry or disappointed. Claude nodded, and squeezed them tighter. His whole family, in one body. It was terrifying.

“They must be so small,” he murmured again, “and they'll be coming so soon.” He needed to change the subject. “Have you given more thought to what you'll want them to call you?”

“Yes, I’ve been able to consult with a few friends that gave me some suggestions,” Fae said excitedly, going back to gently scratching Claude’s head. “I liked Ren, short for parent; affectionately, Renny.”

Claude hummed. “That’s cute.”

“I was still wondering about finding something that paired better with Baba,” Fae admitted.

“Don’t worry about that,” Claude insisted.

“Being raised in Almyra,” he began and even now, years later, saying that aloud felt strange on his throat, a secret no longer, “I never called my father Dad, and never envisioned myself as one, but that I might one day have children calling me Baba,” he huffed a soft pleased laugh, dragging the tip of his nose against their neck up to their ear, “I’d given that some thought.”

“Some,” Fae teased.

“Some,” Claude repeated, tilting his head again to press his forehead to his spouse.

“You should be comfortable with what our kids call you,” Claude said, feeling a bit strange about the obviousness of the statement.

Fae rubbed back and forth across Claude’s forearm for a while, plucking at his curls with their opposite hand, and he struggled not to close his eyes, for fear of falling asleep again while they were still talking. He moved his hand to stroke a languid fingertip across their chin.

“Then yes,” Fae said finally, “I think, tentatively, I do like Ren.”

They dipped their head and caught the side of Claude’s finger between their teeth. He chuckled.

“Good.”

Kissing his finger as they leaned their head back and away, Fae asked, “Do we want to reconsider names if we’re having twins? Maybe some with historic or legendary significance?”

“I don’t want that,” Claude said as he shifted around on the bed, propping himself on an elbow and bending away into more of a fetal position. “I still like the idea of naming our firstborn - even if they’re now a pair, after our parents, or others who’ve helped us with Omoya. No legend could come close to what people mean to me, and we’d risk naming a child after someone like Nemesis or Rhea—”

Fae interrupted him with a groan. “Okay, point made.”

“Well hold on now,” Claude said with an air of levity and half a laugh. “Were you bringing it up because there were names you wanted to suggest?”

“Not exactly,” Fae answered cheerfully, “but it felt like the sort of theatrical decision you’d lean into.”

Claude laughed openly this time as he retorted, “As if you’re so subtle.”

Fae turned to look at him, their husband. They’d almost argued by saying that they would have been subtle if they ever had a choice, but that was a lie. They’d made many choices in their life to end up as they were, in a new country with this man they loved, leading from front lines to throne rooms, with too many titles and sacred weapons and rituals scattered around them. They would never imply they’d have made any other choices than to be here with Claude now.

They tugged at his neck instead, smiling into his mouth as he kissed them deeper and more playful than they’d been expecting.

It took a few minutes, during which time Fae dragged out their affections, but eventually it felt as if the strange and distracting sensations of their babies’ movements had slowed to a halt.

“I think we can try to sleep now,” they whispered.

“You mean I’m not already dreaming?” Claude asked quietly, stroking Fae’s green hair about their ears, feeling his heart tighten as they smiled at him. “Lay back,” he requested. “Try to sleep. I’ll be here.”

“Don’t get up again,” Fae warned, obviously concerned but not serious, as they turned to rest their head among their pillows and closed their eyes.

“Not until sunrise,” he promised, stretching forward to place another kiss on their cheek before curling back away into his space, keeping a hand on their upper arm. “Good night.”

Fae hummed appreciatively. “Good night, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was completely self indulgent, but maybe it appealed to some of you also? I'd love a Kudos or a comment. <3


	7. After Nemesis (Claude x Fae)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was done for the prompt:
> 
> "Giving them their coat."

With Nemesis defeated, the remaining forces were returning to Garreg Mach, to confirm their victory, and that no further threats had reared their heads. It was late in the evening when, astride his wyvern, Claude had raised his arm to signal to Hilda and her battalions that they should land, and she’d absolutely shrieked in horror. The rush of the wind had been so familiar, that he simply hadn’t noticed that his shirts were torn from elbow to hip bone.

“Thank goodness we’re landing!” she called in relief, settling on dry earth next to her friend. Claude rolled his eyes and smiled.

“It’s not that bad, Hilda.”

“You can’t fly in to Garreg Mach like that,” she chastised, unbuckling herself. “You’re the Grand Duke of Leicester, and possibly the next ruler of Fodlan. It would be undignified for your whole armpit to be hanging out when we get back.”

“Are you offering to patch me up?” Claude taunted, jumping to the earth. “She isn’t, is she?” he cooed to his wyvern, tapping on either side of her snout.

Hilda was rubbing the side of her own wyvern’s neck as she tossed her head back. “You know we have people for that, buUut Mercedes would probably work fastest, and her hands wouldn’t be exhausted from bowstrings or battle axes.”

“I’m not going to ask Mercedes to—” Claude was saying, but Hilda was already marching away, surely in search of her, and so Claude scoffed and repeated some of the relief he’d shown his wyvern earlier in the day for her tireless work.

They dressed Claude in one of the grey tunics usually reserved for the injured, and while Mercedes, Hilda and Marianne chatted away in his open tent by candlelight, Claude sat out by the fire. He distracted himself from the chill by watching the way the sparks danced up to the heavens above, and by rubbing his thumb back and forth along the sash in his lap.

“Claude?” Fae called as they rushed up to meet him, and he heard the concern in their voice, and smiled.

“My friend,” he answered, waving them closer, “were you still working?”

“I was just checking on the distribution of potions, I wasn’t sure if we’d have trouble getting the Leicester quartermasters to share with the Adrestians,” they explained, sitting next to him. Their large eyes roamed over his face and shoulders, and Claude blushed softly, letting them the time they needed to ask. “You’re not _injured,_ are you?”

“No,” he assured them, folding up his sash. “No, I’m fine. My shirts were torn, and so the ladies are repairing them.” He nodded to his tent, where he could hear Hilda giggling, and felt himself melt as Fae smiled at the sight of the gathering.

Fae sat next to him, both closer and further away than he’d like. The crackling wood popped, and Claude turned his attention to it.

“You’re awfully close to the fire,” Fae observed. “Are you cold?”

“I don’t think—” Claude cut short when he felt a warm hand on the side of his face, swiping a curl back. Despite feeling it and knowing what it was, and — by every God in the Heavens — wanting it, he jerked away, his hands twisting the sash in his hands as they balled into fists on instinct.

“I—I’m sorry.” Fae worried, and then said very quickly, “But you _are_ cold.”

“What? No, I’m fine. There’s really nothing you need to…” Claude trailed off this time, as Fae stood beside him, pulling out of that long grey coat. He’d had so many nightmares of that coat, found empty at the bottom of a chasm, cold and lifeless, coated in blood. Instead he found it being draped over the back of his shoulders, not quite fitting, but not needing to, warm, smelling of sweat and battle, but … alive.

Claude scrunched up his nose in a smile, trying to joke, so that he didn’t burst with confessions and declarations and desperation, “You spoil me.”

Fae smiled as they resettled next to him, and took their turn looking at the fire. “Now we’re even.”

“Are you suggesting you’re done working with me?” Claude prodded, crossing his hands at the wrists to hold either side of the coat tightly around him. “With Nemesis defeated, our partnership ends?”

“I hope not. We,” Fae turned to look at him, and hesitated. “We fight so well together.”

“We do,” Claude agreed. He hummed. “Besides, weren’t you going to help me with my dream?”

“Of course,” Fae said, smiling and sighing. “I guess there really is so much left to do.”

_‘If only I could do it from here. From your side,’_ Claude thought sadly, lowering his right hand to the sash in his lap. _‘Let me be with you, if only now, if only for a little longer.’_ He ran his thumb over the pocket of the sash, stitched closed, to secure his mother’s ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are hectic all over right now! Be safe!
> 
> This was originally [posted on tumblr.](https://omgkalyppso.tumblr.com/post/619419759410348032/giving-them-their-coat-and-soft-face-brush-i) You too could send me prompts for days that I don't have the time or spoons to work on bigger projects!


	8. Little Worries (Claude & his twins)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was done for the prompt:
> 
> "Soft face brush."

It was unusual by both Almyran and Fodlani standards for so many people to be present for a birth, but the twin princes had been a strange case for months now. Seteth had been there, with two Almyran healers and one from Fodlan, and Claude. He’d felt his heart sink through to the heart of the earth when Seteth had looked at him with an expression that Claude was still uncertain of being horror; but it had been nothing, not really, not that anyone would overtly comment upon. The twins were born with elfin ears and shocks of neon green hair, but not Nabatean blood, so far as Seteth had determined some hours later.

Claude had understood Seteth’s distress.

They were small, both by virtue of being twins, and a month early, and Claude’s heart ached to look at them. Magic and medicine were only so deep in his control. He was told it would be at least a week before they would feel secure leaving the children without twenty-four hour supervision.

As such, there was a healer in the room where Claude hovered over his and Fae’s babies. They’d been warned about holding them, but he had washed his hands and donned gloves and a mask as requested, so that he could touch them, just for a moment. Fae had shrieked and cried when the healers insisted the babes be instantly contained, leaving Fae no opportunity to properly see or hold them. Claude and Seteth had promised that both children were alive with their every breath afterwards, until Fae had finally sobbed themselves to sleep.

Carefully, Claude swept a fingertip across the forehead of one babe, trailing his thumb over the ear of the other.

They were so small. Claude swallowed, and with one nervous glance back at the healer, opened his mouth to quietly pray to several different Gods as he lay his hand around the side of one of his children; that they would survive the week, the year, their lifetime; that they would play in the rain and sleep in the sun, and learn to travel by the guiding stars. He rolled his fingers over the back of the shoulder of his other little prince, and continued his pleas; that they knew nothing of war or assassination, that they lived to mock him and his generation for things that they would know as petty squabbles and useless fights. When his child twitched under his touch, Claude shut up and pulled away, both to try and keep the babe from whining, and because he was still in wonder of it, to have children. He and Fae had been preparing and planning for months, and years, of course, but for the twins to be here and present and reacting to him and breathing was another matter entirely.

“Just keep breathing,” he whispered, he begged. He laughed. “And thank you, for being gentle on your Ren and each other. I appreciate all the strength you’ve shown so far… Just be strong a little longer for me, okay? Then I can take over. I promise to take care of everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> This was originally [posted on tumblr.](https://omgkalyppso.tumblr.com/post/619419759410348032/giving-them-their-coat-and-soft-face-brush-i) You too could send me prompts for days that I don't have the time or spoons to work on bigger projects!


	9. In Derdriu (Everybody)

Even with the onset of winter, Derdriu was lively. The streets and roads were bustling with trade and tourism; the presence of the monarchs and the grand duke building upon the excitement. Most of Claude and Fae’s visit was accounted for, political and busy, but they secured a few moments during the three weeks that the Gloucesters would be around to dedicate to their company. It would have broken their hearts to have seen them only publicly.

The first such afternoon was spent in a children’s playroom, where Fae sat cross-legged by a box of toys. They leaned Geralt up against the inside of their left thigh before reaching up to help Claude seat Nader next to his brother, much the same on their opposite side.

“Thank you, Baba,” Fae said warmly and Claude huffed a laugh as he left his hand atop his toddler’s head while he kissed his spouse.

Claude went to sit at a table, where he’d arranged for a few older toys: colorful board games, a deck of cards, and similar, for Halvard’s sake. However, initially he and Lorencia did run up to Fae and the twins.

“Do they get to play with you every day?” asked Halvard, thinking of the time he did and did not spend with his parents.

“Oh, no, no, no. Don’t do that,” Lorencia cautioned, reaching out to pluck Nader’s fist from where Geralt was chewing on his brother.

“They’re okay,” Fae said, assuring Lorencia as they reached out and pulled a box of treated wood blocks of various sizes towards them, letting the contents spill out on the floor. “They’re still learning how to play and talk, so they do play every day, but not always with me, no.”

Halvard nodded and Lorencia was squinting, uncomfortable, but obviously satisfied that by holding Nader’s slimy hand she was keeping it from his brother.

“My Dad says you should never put your hands in your mouth because there can be germs on anything,” Lorencia recited. “Especially animals.”

Hilda bit her bottom lip in a smile, and Claude pursed his lips and tilted his head at Lorenz, who winced in embarrassment as he sat next to Claude. He whispered, “She’s a smart girl. Just enjoys sucking the snow off her mittens.”

Claude scoffed, amused. He answered, hushed for Lorenz and Hilda, “I’m laughing at _ you_, Dad.”

Fae was also entertained, but believed they did a passable job at a warm smile as they agreed with the little girl, “That’s true. He’s very wise, your father.” They nodded back to the basin at the door, “You washed your hands on the way in?”

Lorencia and Halvard nodded.

“Us too,” Fae said with another smile, wiggling a fingertip on Geralt’s pouting lips. “Their teeth are growing in, so they’re going to chew on everything for a little while. Everything in here should be clean. Halvard, can you hand me those wheels there?”

Halvard was happy to collect the little toys, discs of wood and rubber construction, perfect for chubby hands and little mouths. He offered one to Lorencia and tried giving the other to Geralt, but the toddler pouted and turned away to his ren with an expression of distress. Lorencia waved her offering for Nader, but he simply slumped forward and began to crawl towards the blocks.

When Halvard looked just as disappointed as Geralt, Fae stifled a laugh and picked up their babe to sit up on their leg. “It’s fine, Geralt. You don’t know Halvard very well yet, but — oh, not yet, Halvard,” Fae cautioned as he tried again to offer the toddler the soother, and Geralt squirmed and fussed to keep it away from him. Fae extended a hand for the wheel, asking the puzzled pink haired boy, “May I?”

Fae showed the item to Geralt and waved it a little in front of him with soft assurances, that it wasn’t so bad, and so on, until he reached out for the soother and pulsed little squeezing fists around the rubber. “Alright, you’ll figure it out,” Fae told their baby. “Thank you, Halvard.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Hal,” Hilda beckoned. “Come play a game with us.”

Lorenz explained the rules of some of the options for his son, and Claude stretched out, watching the children on the carpets.

As Nader reached out for a rectangular block, Lorencia extended a little arm to pull it closer to him, asking, “You like the long ones?” She looked around to collect a few more. “We can line them up.”

With Lorencia’s wall now in his way, Nader pointed beyond to a diamond block sitting on its side. “Hadduh?”

Claude brought a hand up to the base of his neck and shared a look with Hilda, though whatever had touched him had only confused her. She squinted in response before turning to watch the scene play out.

“Hadha, Nader?” Fae corrected, stretching to roll the blocked closer to them with a finger. “This one?”

“Hadduh,” he repeated, and Hilda pouted at Claude in understanding.

Lorencia smiled quizzically at Fae before reaching over to pick it up and offer it to Nader.

“This one?”

Nader made a few cooing noises of approval, bouncing forward, trying to mimic the letter ‘o’ included in Lorencia’s question, “Oo! Oo! Ooom.” He gnawed on the side of the block as he watched Lorencia’s construction, eventually pressing his block down atop her structure with enough force to spread and scatter the blocks.

Hilda widened her eyes and smiled at Lorenz as Halvard selected a board game and helped set up the pieces. Despite the age difference, they suspected that Halvard could have been happy playing with the younger children, but he could easily have become attached to any of his own block constructions, inevitably destroyed by the toddlers or his sister. Wanting this interaction to go as smoothly as possible, and spare him a little heartbreak, they had suggested having another activity for their boy.

He had picked a game with teams, and Hilda switched seats to allow him to sit across from his father, his chosen teammate.

Claude thought about taunting Halvard (and maybe Lorenz), either for selecting his father before his monarch, or his father before his mother, with implications that Lorenz wouldn’t have the heart to win against her, but Claude didn’t like how either of these sat in his heart and instead riled Hilda. “Do you think we can beat them?”

She bat her eyelashes at her son. “You’ll go easy on me, won’t you Hal?”

“Don’t listen to them,” Lorenz said with a laugh. “They just want us to let our guard down.”

For a moment Halvard hesitated, his expression nervous. He said, rather quietly, “I wouldn’t have picked a game I didn’t think I could win.”

Hilda hollered, leaning away from Halvard as she laughed. Claude and Lorenz had similar reactions, if more muted, and Halvard smiled, relaxed.

“Oh, you’re a little Gloucester alright,” Claude teased with a wink.

“A point of _ pride_,” Lorenz insisted with a shake of his head. He moved his first game piece and addressed Halvard. “Bold though.” With his hand on the table he pointed his left index finger to Claude. “We are up against the Master Tactician.”

Claude tossed his head back and whined, half disgusted, and Lorenz joined Hilda in a softer chuckle.

Twice Claude grimaced at Hilda when opportunities presented themselves for him to significantly propel their team towards victory. He was relieved that she saw them too at least, and that he wasn’t alone when he didn’t pursue either of them, letting the game proceed at a leisurely pace.

However, sometime in the middle of the game, a soft exclamation of pain, cut short, stole the attention from those at the table. All of the parents hissed in sympathy at the source of the noise, Nader pulling at a loose pink curl of Lorencia’s long flowing hair.

Lorencia took hold of the root, and Fae moved Geralt aside so that they could pinch the lock in the middle in case Lorencia’s grip slipped, and used their other hand to unfurl Nader’s fingers off the base of it.

“That’s not nice Nader,” Fae cooed. Then a little more firm, “We don’t grab people.” They frowned in concern. “Are you okay, Lorencia?”

Lorencia’s expression was mostly blank, as she swept her hand over her head and nodded. “Um. I’m going to … um,” she hesitated, distressed when she realized the others were staring at her. “I’m going to look at the dolls.”

Fae nodded and adjusted their grip on Nader as he stretched out in reach of his toys.

Hilda pouted at her husband as Lorencia absently plucked two stuffed bears from the box of toys and moved to sit on her heels in the corner of the room. Her mother was standing to join her even before the first silent shake of her shoulders.

Lorencia looked back to her in surprise, purple eyes rimmed with tears, as Hilda pulled her daughter back into her arms. She whispered for Lorencia’s benefit, “Oh. Oh, sweetling. Are you okay?”

“It hurts,” Lorencia sobbed quietly, obviously embarrassed.

With Lorencia leaned back against her, Hilda placed both hands on her head, rubbing her thumbs where the pain might be.

“I’m sure,” Hilda agreed. “But you know what? You were so brave! You handled that so well! I’d have probably yelped so loud, and squirmed and whined, that I’d have scared little Nader, but you were so patient and understanding. That was very mature of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Hilda agreed, running her fingers through Lorencia’s hair. She reached up to her own coif and plucked at three pins and a ribbon until her hair was shaking loose past her shoulders. “You haven’t seen a lot of babies, not like Halvard by your age, I’m surprised you weren’t more angry with Nader.”

Hilda gently pulled back Lorencia’s hair, spinning it in a loop, tying the ribbon around it and pinning it in place, a rose bun for her littlest Gloucester.

“He didn’t mean it,” Lorencia said, less pained now.

“You’re so smart,” Hilda praised, pressing the palms of her hands atop Lorencia’s head, ensuring the bun was loose enough after the little girl’s recent experience, and hoping to soothe with the heat of her hands. “He was just trying to learn from you. Unfortunately, it’ll probably take a few more lessons before he realizes how he can hurt others, and why he shouldn’t, but hopefully there’ll be no more hair pulling today.”

A bubble of laughter, released around a sob, escaped Lorencia as she spun around to face her mother.

Smiling, Hilda touched her daughter’s chin. “Better?”

Lorencia looked to the floor and nodded, still bashful. She wiped her eyes.

As Hilda asked about the bears Lorencia had found, the others at the table only saw her reach down to pick up one of the stuffed dolls, and realized that their game had probably ended.

Claude smiled at Geralt, who was pulling himself across the carpet towards him.

“Too much drama for you?” Claude asked as he leaned forward in his seat to collect the boy.

“Datsch,” Geralt answered, nonsensically, pointing to the game on the table.

“No,” Claude exaggerated, pushing the gameboard towards Hilda’s empty seat. “That has too many small pieces for you to play with.”

“Deh?” Geralt contributed, before babbling quietly as he gestured with his arms, seemingly arguing why he should be allowed to play with the hazardous toys, “Baba, puh, pbhushh, aih!”

“You think so?” Claude prompted. “I think Halvard would disagree.”

Lorenz snorted in amusement as his son’s gentle annoyance about their interrupted game was replaced with confusion. With Lorenz and Halvard’s attention on him, Geralt started to babble again, and Claude was more careful about the placement of his hands as his son started tugging on his collar and shoulders, pulling himself up to stand with assistance as he implored the other two with his speech.

“What do you think?” Lorenz asked Halvard, and Geralt made another high pitched squeaking noise.

“Hey now, Baby, Baby,” Claude cautioned, shaking his head when Geralt turned to him. “Shh. Quieter, please.”

Geralt babbled some more, quieter, as requested.

Halvard squinted. “But it’s all made up words?”

“All words are made up,” Claude said, smiling as he bounced his heel, and Geralt squeezed his shirt and bent his knees to ride out the motions.

“Well I … I don’t know what he means,” Halvard said, a little more confidently.

“You may not remember it, but you had whole conversations with Lori when she was still speaking in ‘made up words,’ younger than the royal princes,” Lorenz told him. He paused, and then called to his daughter, “Lori, do you remember what Halvard asked when you were a baby?”

“Dad,” Halvard whined, obviously knowing the story to which Lorenz was referring.

“I do!” Lorencia confirmed.

“What was it?” asked Claude.

“She was about two months old when we were all sitting together, and Halvard, watching her stare at him, asked in the sweetest little voice, ‘Do you think she likes us?’”

Halvard huffed and turned his face away to an empty corner.

“Of course he has no memory of it,” Lorenz continued, “so I’ll have to recite it enough that he does not forget. It will be one of my favorite memories,” he reached out to gently pinch Halvard’s ear so that he looked at him as he promised, “as now.”

They spoke more of siblings and families before needing to be separated by responsibility, and were relieved that it hadn’t gone any worse than a little accidental hair tug.

Another day spent together was earlier than the others, and the twin princes were left inside to nap while their parents followed the Gloucesters into the cold of Derdriu’s underground canals. They were well-lit and open to markets, and statues, and playing children. And whether one would look above or below, they would find grating. Down, it led into more aqueducts and shipping canals, and then the sewer system hidden even deeper than that. Up led to the sky and the chill, so that snow fell onto the scenery, where tended ice was kept solid enough for skating along the long winding paths.

After taking in the sights, a little awkwardly with their guards hovering around, they collected some candy from a market stall and sat by one of the snow pits. Halvard got permission to join a group of children throwing snowballs, and quickly finished some sticky sweets off a stick to join them in the cleft where water would run in summer, staying where he could be seen. A guard followed down into the snow pit, kneeling against a pike in the corner, within running distance. The parents were sure that Halvard and the other children would hate the guard’s presence, but could not find it within themselves to argue.

To their relief, they could see Halvard get caught up in the game as Claude and Lorencia spoke of what winter was like in their respective homelands.

The chatting pair stopped short when the screaming from the playing children changed tone. They were the only ones of their group who hadn’t seen the flash of green from the snow pit. Lorenz took off, and Fae and Hilda went from shock to amusement, laughing.

“What? What happened?” asked Claude.

“Is everything alright?” asked Lorencia.

“That’s so funny,” Fae insisted.

“My poor little boy,” Hilda laughed, wiping her eye. “Yes, Lori, there’s nothing to worry about. Your brother just had his Crest activate for the first time.”

“Dad?” Halvard asked, shaken and alone, the other children scattered at a distance.

“Wait, really?” Claude prompted, standing to turn and look down to where Lorenz was taking Halvard’s face in his hands, the distraught child dropping his snowball and lowering his arm.

“Hush,” Lorenz cooed, hugging his son. “You’re alright Halvard. You’re okay,” he chuckled softly, “but maybe a little too enthusiastic.”

“Mmhmm,” Hilda agreed, pouting as Lorenz picked Halvard up and rubbed his back.

With the founding of Omoya, use of a device that detected Crests was forbidden on minors except in very specific circumstances. If Lorencia weren’t present, Hilda would have confessed that she’d hoped Halvard would have had his father’s Crest, to finally put rumors of her disloyalty to bed, but _ of course _ her pink champion had a Crest of Goneril. “He got mine, apparently,” Hilda told Claude.

“Looks like he scared the, uh,” Claude cleared his throat, “souls, out of those other kids.”

“And himself,” Fae contributed.

Lorenz held his chin over the back of Halvard’s left shoulder; large shoulders for a seven year old. Halvard was always told how big he was, how old he looked, and so he felt especially childish to be hiccuping tears into the side of his father’s neck in sight of kids who had looked at him like a monster and a threat.

“I think we’ll need to head back,” Lorenz said softly rubbing Halvard’s back again as the boy squeezed. “At least Halvard and I.”

“No, we’ll come,” Hilda said, looking at the others for confirmation as she stood. “Lori, you’re okay going back to the keep, aren’t you?”

Lorencia nodded. “It was getting cold anyway.”

On the walk back, Claude and Fae listened to Lorencia talk about what she knew of months and the phases of the moon, gently correcting her on occasion, but otherwise acting enthralled by every detail; which wasn’t far from the truth because the wealth of information she had to share was fascinating for such a little girl. She and Hilda sang a song about the moons of the year that Claude remembered as if heard in a dream, and that everyone was surprised to hear had been sung by the Blade Breaker to Fae as a child also.

Lorenz thought about trying to talk to Halvard about Crests, refreshing the topic in his mind to assure him, but decided that the politics of it meant that it was more of a sit down conversation for the whole of his family and that Halvard was probably too overwhelmed at the moment anyway, and walked in silence.

It was the day before they would leave Derdriu, to Gloucester and Almyra. In the late evening, after dinner and the twins were put to bed, they made their way to an intentionally closed training ground, hushed and whispering until they remembered they didn’t have to be, and that the hallways were simply silent.

Halvard was too young to hold a training weapon, and so he sat with his sister as they watched the monarchs and their parents dress down to training gear and make a show of sparring and trick shots and magical prowess, so that their Crests activated visibly and often. He had seen his father’s Crest before, as Lorenz did have a habit of slipping into training grounds to remind himself that he could protect people if pressed, but if his mother did the same, she was more subtle about it. Hilda broke six training dummies before sparring with Fae, even then holding her own, thick legs holding her up against powerful strikes, and strong arms chasing their agile body as they danced away from the swings of her training axe.

“Oh, I can’t watch,” Lorencia whined, holding splayed fingers in front of her eyes so that she very much did continue to watch.

Halvard laughed, and the bout stopped as the adults turned to look at him, soft and relieved.

“Fae,” Lorenz called, tipping a training lance toward the ceiling. “A different challenge?”

“In a minute,” they agreed, smiling as they leaned forward to catch their breath.

Claude walked up to the children and resisted ruffling Halvard’s pink hair, dusty and sweaty as he surely was from sparring. He had the little ones help him distribute water from a barrel kept in the middle of an open wall to a hallway, and winked at the lone guard who stood there.

Between each demonstration of skill that followed, Claude arranged that those of the adults who were not fighting could sneak away to the back room in search of something, towels, brooms, burlap to reinforce a training dummy, where they could kiss and hold each other and repeat declarations of love, not knowing when the opportunity would come again.

“Soon,” Lorenz promised Fae, the last of the mismatched pairs to take a moment, his forehead pressed against them. “Lorencia’s old enough to travel now,” Lorenz felt silly saying such a thing when their twins had made the journey from Almyra to Fodlan at six months of age, but pressed on, “and I said we’d visit Almyra.”

“Please do,” Fae agreed, soft and smiling, their hands pressed against Lorenz’s chest, his heart beating wildly beneath their touch. “We’ll miss you every day. All of you.”

“I can’t make promises,” Lorenz said sadly, standing and tilting his head in a way that would normally have his bangs swaying, but which instead hung limp beside his face, twisted in sweat. The rest of his long hair was braided and pinned back in a far more haphazard way than Lorencia’s had been a few days ago. “But I can hope. I don’t think I’ll need to convince Hilda, it will just be a matter of balancing duties and time.”

Lorenz pulled them together again and Fae kissed him, nodding as their lips parted. After another squeeze, Lorenz slid his hands up their back, across their neck and hair, touching as much of them as lovingly as he could with the time that was left.

“And you’re worth it,” he professed, letting go.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I checked 5 websites and am under the impression that "hadha" is the arabic word for "that one" or "this" but if I used this in a wrong or offensive way, please let me know! I'm definitely willing to change it or rewrite the section so that it's either a fictional language or that no words are specified ...
> 
> Otherwise, hope you enjoyed the chapter! <3


	10. Together At Last (Claude x Fae)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another tumblr prompt: Resting Foreheads Together

The twins were two days old, or so people kept telling Fae. They felt like they had slept on and off enough for weeks to have passed.

“It’s so quiet, Claude.”

“I—?” Claude hesitated, stroking a thumb across their face. “I can ask about moving you?” He wondered where they could place Fae, that they might hear more servants and guards, and maybe the wyverns, without disturbing their health and sleep.

Fae shook their head as they moved to look him in the eye, resting a hand on their stomach. “My hearts are gone.” They failed to smile through their sadness, tears stinging their eyes again while Claude’s expression betrayed his shock and then his helplessness. “And you won’t let me see them.”

“That’s not…” Claude whined. He started again, his voice stronger. “I’ve seen them, and they’re beautiful.”

“I should be feeding them,” Fae whined. “Whether with a bottle or my body… I … I had that reassurance before,” they caressed their abdomen, strangely silent to them now, “to know that they were fine… You’re not lying to me? You wouldn’t lie to me.”

“I promise,” Claude insisted, huffing in sadness. He wished Fae hadn’t suggested that he _could_ lie to them, but understood why they had, and that they might still not believe him.

Fae could see that they’d hurt him, and winced in frustration, nodding as they accepted his answer. The room they’d been resting in balanced features that advertised its use, for healers and royalty both. It was worse to not be in a familiar bed, and a relief to be in Claude’s arms as they sat so their toes touched the cool tiles on the floor, in suspense and discomfort.

It was ten days before Fae could meet their twins, and after, in private, Claude may have cried harder than them over the reunion.

The sun had set and the sky was the orange of late evening, peeking through the windows across the hall, when the healers confirmed for the monarchs that their children, now five weeks old, were healthy enough to no longer require isolation. Though they were still given privacy; and the family gathered in the safety of their walls, the echoing comforts of home and victory yet ringing off battles from years ago.

“Oh, my sweet child,” Fae cooed, scooping up one of their little princes, who scrunched his face in disappointment and made a noise as if to cry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Fae hushed, bouncing him close to their chest. “But I missed you, my heart.”

Claude collected their other baby, who was quieter and grunted upon being moved. He too held their child close to his heart, and thought of all that had fallen into place, just so, for him to have these children, and this life to offer them.

“Fae,” Claude beckoned, nodding them to a bench beside the window, where they could watch the rising line of orange on the opposite wall; a performance from the setting sun.

“They’re crying,” Fae said, and Claude wondered if Fae shouldn’t be feeling more distress, but they seemed happy, excited, relieved. “All those warnings about how I never cried and that I… But they’re crying.” Fae descended into hushes and coos that seemed to be doing nothing, and Claude had to keep from laughing about it, ridiculous and endearing as it was.

He leaned towards them, with a careful hand around his infant’s head, and Fae leaned towards Claude too, bumping against him in defeat.

“Here, let me try,” Claude suggested. Leaning his one child into the crook of one arm as he turned towards Fae, Claude leaned back with his right hand cupped in a way to assure them of his capability. Although Fae grimaced about the prospect of their baby rejecting them after so long apart, they helped lay the infant on Claude’s chest, his hand fitting around the babe as he pressed him in place.

Claude took a minute longer than he expected to recover from this, being surrounded by his family. When he finally moved to stand, intending to offer the silent twin to Fae’s arms and babble around his crying child, Fae touched his shoulder. “Wait.”

“Hm?” Claude peeped curiously, and Fae nodded his attention to the scratching on his chest. The twins were each stretching out to the space in his arms, to a suspicious degree. Claude cocked his elbow until the quieter babe, squeaking a warning, shifted closer to their sibling as Claude shifted his arm to hold the children closer together.

His crying baby flailed a little, accidentally slapping the other child, and Claude tossed his head back in distress as Fae shushed them again.

“Won’t you relax now? You’re together again. We’re together,” Fae promised, kissing the side of their child’s head.

Still leaned back as he was, Claude could see where the babies were now holding hands, and felt himself grow light as his infant started to calm, crying replaced by grumbles that faded into snores.

“A natural,” Fae teased, kissing Claude’s cheek next.

He shook his head, whispering, “I didn’t even do anything.”

“Look at them again before you lie to me,” Fae insisted.

Doing as he was told, Claude also looked behind himself to find the window frame, being sure to lean against the wall and not the glass, and conceded to himself that maybe even that was helpful. Holding them, watching them sleep, wondering about their joined hands, Claude realized that if he and Fae supported this bond, his children might never know loneliness in the ways he had as a child, that they wouldn’t know to fear every intimate gesture.

“Are you okay, Baba?” Fae asked softly.

“Yeah,” Claude sighed. “Yeah, I’m… I love you,” he said to Fae and then to the infants in his arms. “I love you.”

“We love you too,” Fae answered, feeling strange speaking for their children now that they were present.

“Come here,” Claude requested with a tilt of his neck, kissing Fae’s lips, feeling their arms wrap around him and their children as they shifted closer. They rested their chin on his shoulder, and Claude pressed his forehead to theirs and asked, “So who’s who?”

The names had been decided, it was only a matter of distinguishing either child. Though each born with blue eyes, one child’s had changed to brown, and they were not wholly identical, so that once assigned, the names should be easy to differentiate them.

Fae chuckled softly, eyes closed in comfort. “Should I not know them longer before I presume?”

“That’s not how it’s done in Fodlan,” Claude observed, where naming ceremonies did not exist. “I want to know if we’re on the same page.”

“Alright,” Fae said warmly, sitting up. They stroked a finger through the fluffy green hair on their closer child, the one who’d been crying. “Nader,” they declared, extending their finger to tap the top of the other twin’s ear, “and Geralt.”

“I’m good with that,” Claude said, smiling wide.

Fae clicked their tongue. “Were we on the same page, or not?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Claude teased, excited, biting his lips. “You’ve named them now, ceremony or no.”

Fae gasped. “That’s hardly fair.”

Claude willed himself not to laugh or bounce, not beyond his breathing. “It’s perfect,” he promised. “This past hour? Perfect. Let me…” Carefully Claude started to stand. “Let me help you hold them.”

It was less complicated than Claude expected to transfer the twins to Fae’s arms, and he stood in front of them, crouched over with his hands on his knees in case they needed him to reach out.

They were much warmer than Fae expected, and their hearts weren’t beating loud enough to hear or anything supernaturally strange, beyond their appearance, but they were teary anyway to be reunited with their hearts, quiet and comfortable, and finally ready to live together.


End file.
